


stuck with nowhere to go

by perfect_little_fool



Series: the long road [1]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: 20 Hours in America, Cunnilingus, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Jealousy, Light Angst, PTSD trigger, Pining, episode rewrite, explicit rating is warranted for only scene sue me, light ptsd, roadtripping, way more plot than porn surprisingly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_little_fool/pseuds/perfect_little_fool
Summary: “In your apartment,” she recalls, craning her neck back to squint at the sky as they walk. “I think I was changing your bandage on your chest and you, uncharacteristically, became very grateful and thanked me for helping you. Then you made some comment about how if you were stranded on a desert island one of the things you’d want with you was, well, me.”Josh is looking at her, but she’s pointedly not looking at him. For reasons. “Because you’d be the one to get us off of it,” he finishes, nodding his head like he remembers the exact conversation. It’s few and far between that Josh illuminates his feelings about her, even if they’re strictly professional and platonic, but when he does it feels nothing short of a miracle.Her heart is pounding again. “Yeah. You’re lucky to have me.”(or, the one that asks and answers: what if it was only Josh and Donna who'd been left behind by the motorcade? just the two of them?)
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Series: the long road [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833961
Comments: 13
Kudos: 181





	stuck with nowhere to go

**Author's Note:**

> fic song used for title and throughout: "Stuck" by The Aces
> 
> i took some liberties with this - Aaron Sorkin's dialogue as well as my own are heavily sprinkled together throughout. i basically looked at this adventure as a rewrite of episodes 4x01 and 4x02, so of course a lot of the original stayed put, i just spun it new to be all Josh and Donna. originally, this was just supposed to be a scene of them in the hotel room together, but for some reason it's not? it's this massive beast? anyway, i'm going down with this ship
> 
> sorry for the explicit warning only for it to be basically one scene that isn't fully sex. i meant to do a whole 4k words of smut, but that eventually ended up not feeling right. i'm very happy with the direction this went in and i hope you all are too. lemme know what you think!

_we talk, talk ‘til we’re blue in the face_

-

“Toby, have you seen Josh?”

The disgruntled man who had been kicking his foot against the dirt beneath looks up at the question. Donna waits expectantly, hand on the strap of her purse slung over her shoulder.

The White House Communications Director squints before head-nodding toward a path leading into some crops. “He’s out there with Cathy. I volunteered to sweet talk with him but he waved me off.” Toby’s hands are deep in the pockets of his faithful brown suit, sweat on his forehead from the rural sun. 

Donna smiles. “Thanks. I gotta grab him. CJ said we need to get in the motorcade basically as the audience starts applauding.”

He nods, looking back toward the stage where the President is doing a damn good job of riling up his supporters. “Get him quick, we’re almost done.”

She agrees, turning to head through the grass in the direction Toby had directed. 

After a walk across a length of green she finds them with their backs to her. The cute redhead named Cathy, who’s in an actual _flannel_ , is about a foot shorter than Donna’s boss, with him basically towering over his companion. She shakes away the clench in her gut seeing him chuckle at something the girl says. They’re stopping to turn to each other when his assistant makes her presence known. 

“Josh!” she calls.

He turns at her voice, eyes hidden behind his small, square sunglasses. 

“He’s wrapping up,” she calls again, flouncing her way into their atmosphere to make the duo a trio. Cathy gives her an easy, cute smile, and Donna knows she’s far from hating this woman. Donna smiles back. “We’ve really got to go now.” She urges this notion with some fluttering of her hands. 

Josh gives a small smirk as they all three start walking back in the direction that Donna came from. “Donna’s a little nervous. A couple weeks ago some guys got left behind by the motorcade in Kentucky.” Cathy nods in response. 

“It was in Tennessee and they were never heard from again,” Donna informs with a flick of her wrist to get hair out of her face.

“They took a cab.” 

“Look—” Cathy begins. 

“I think the real point is,” Josh interrupts, not unkindly, “whatever Toby and the conference committee, whatever definition they came up with, would’ve just created more business for the lawyers of the big farm corporations. I wish we could’ve had more time to talk, but—”

Now it’s Cathy’s turn to interrupt. “There’s no way you guys can’t stay a while, meet some people? Maybe catch up with the campaign at the next stop?”

The Deputy Chief of Staff wipes sweat from his brow, already shaking his head. “Nah, we’ve got one more stop in Unionville and then we get on a plane. It’s a full schedule.”

Donna is aware of Cathy replying, she knows they’re in the midst of a conversation, but all she can focus on after rounding around a bus is the empty stretch of land where the motorcade vehicles were previously parked. The limo holding the President plus Charlie and the SUVs that tend to house herself, Josh, CJ, and Toby are nowhere in sight. She freezes, unsure what to do for a full five seconds as the reality of her fear potentially coming true drops on her. 

They forgot her. They left her. And Josh. 

“Hang on,” Donna finally musters up, eyes wide.

Josh cuts off what Cathy is saying about voters, hand out in front of him as if it will _will_ their ride back to them. “Where is it?” A beat of silence as Donna clutches her ribcage. “Where’s the motorcade?”

A couple of women walk toward them, each branding a _Bartlet for America_ pin on their jean vest and plaid shirt respectively. “Hey, excuse me,” Josh stops them, voice adopting a frantic edge to it. “Where’s the motorcade?”

The one in the denim points over his shoulder. “It’s out there.”

Donna, Josh, and Cathy all turn quickly, spotting the black town cars and motorcycles blazing by on the road leading out of the farm. “Hey!” Josh immediately screams, throwing his arms up in the air. “HEY!” His assistant wonders why he thinks that will be effective, as they couldn’t very well catch his booming voice, no matter how intimidating he thinks he is. Her eyes close as she feels a headache already beginning to form. 

“You guys need a button?” the denim-vest girl asks cheerfully. “Bartlet for America?”

Josh snaps his head to the stranger, practically snarls, then whips back around to lope away. Donna immediately gets into gear, knowing one of them has to be smart about this, and pulls out her phone. She’s dialing Toby within seconds. 

Four rings and then voicemail. “Fuck,” she mutters.

Cathy is watching them, eyes bouncing between the trying-to-stay-calm blonde and the already-irritable-messy-haired man shaving down grass with his pacing. She crosses her arms over her chest, looking left then right multiple times. 

After trying CJ and every campaign volunteer she has in her phone (which is a whole whopping four) she starts to get frustrated. Finally, she hears Josh coming up behind her, his voice less angry and more giving off the illusion that he has any control of their situation. 

“Donna, listen, we gotta get the trailer car,” he tells her.

“Hang on,” she ignores him, plugging one ear to better listen on her phone. She idly feels the heat of his palm touch the small of her back before it disappears as fast as it came. 

“Call Campaign Scheduling and Advance and tell them—”

“Hang on,” she repeats, more firm. 

“You gotta hang up with whoever you’re talking to, call Campaign Scheduling and Advance…” Josh takes note of her slow turn of the head toward him and the stone-hard look on her face. “Unless you’re already talking to Campaign Scheduling and Advance.” He lets his arm that had been out toward her drop back to his side, glancing at the ground.

“Thank you,” Donna finishes her phone call, flipping it closed. “There’s no trailer car today.”

“Really?” he asks shortly.

“Yeah.”

“Good budget cut, good item,” he snarks while pushing his hands into his pockets. He clears his throat. “Oh, Cathy?”

Donna feels her torso do that weird tightening thing at the hint of humor in Josh’s voice, the lilt she’s always attributed to him flirting peeking through. She crosses her arms over her chest, hoping she can choke the feeling out of her body.

The redhead walks the few short feet to stop in front of the two stragglers. She smiles. “You guys seem like you could use a hand.” Cathy tucks her thumbs into the front belt loops of her jeans and Donna could cut her teeth on the sugary sweetness this country gal exudes. 

“Where’s the closest cab?” he asks her.

“About 110 miles as the crow flies,” Cathy answers. Josh mutters something and turns away again, the frustration returning with full force. Donna steps to the plate, per usual. 

“What’s the best way to get to Unionville?” She’s already about to pull out her notepad to jot down instructions when Cathy’s offer stops her in her tracks.

“I’ll take you,” she shrugs, smiling friendly. 

Josh hurriedly turns back around at this. “You will?”

“Yeah. I had nothing else to do today, what with being a farmer’s daughter and all,” she sasses, not breaking eye contact with Josh as she says it. He swallows, unsure how to process her comment. “We’ll take Cap’s car. Meet us at the back of the house!” Then she’s darting away, moving back through the procession of Barlet supporters still mingling. 

Donna looks at Josh. She hopes her stare is enough to tell him how unhappy she is to have been stranded, here, with him. “Tennessee, Josh. Tennessee.”

He meets her gaze, ticking his jaw. “Who’s Cap?”

“I don’t know.”

-

_the words, words don’t resonate_

-

Cap turns out to be more like a WWE wrestler, hulking and large. Josh has never felt so small in his life ‘til being asked to sit in the bed of the truck with this man so Donna can be passenger to Cathy. However, ever the gentleman, Josh agrees to this arrangement, sitting across from what he can only assume is a beast by every definition as they begin to drive.

Cap (Josh is still trying to figure out if that’s short for “Captain” or “Capital Gains”) is rambling about the diesel engine of the truck: apparently it’s a soy diesel engine but at the same time is a regular diesel engine and there was some kind of explosion - he couldn’t care less but where else is he gonna go? 

Josh watches Donna run a hand back through her hair through the window of the cab, something she does only when she’s getting to the point of too-stressed-to-function. “We gotta get her to Unionville,” he says, head nodding to the girls in the front seat. “She’s been losing it after managing to get left behind by the motorcade.”

“But you got left behind too,” Cap points out, arms stretched to dangle over the sides of the truck bed. 

Josh smirks minimally. “Yes, but I was talking to the lovely Cathy, which was a welcome distraction. Farmer’s daughter who has a master’s degree?” He whistles lowly. “Wholesome but...maybe not too wholesome.” He looks to Cap, leaning back a bit. “How do you know Cathy?”

“She’s my girlfriend.”

The redness that erupts over Josh’s neck isn’t a sunburn. He clears his throat, swiping a hand up to rub quickly over the hair at the back of his head. “That’s great,” he coughs, trying to save the moment. “She’s really nice.” He glances away, watching the endless crops of green whip by as they drive down the one-lane road. 

Cap raises a brow. “How do you know Donna?”

“She’s my assistant,” Josh answers almost immediately, the instinctual response always ready at the tip of his tongue. If he had a dime for every time he’s gotten such a question, he’d be richer than most. Not a day goes by that someone new doesn’t question his ever-precarious relationship with his right-hand man. The excuses on their closeness pile up in his brain right away. “Known each other since the middle of Bartlet’s first campaign. Essentially became my employee without my consent. Helped me after a, uh, a personal incident a couple years ago. Injury and all that.” He sniffs, breaking eye contact with his road trip companion once more. “She’s great, she’s really great. Best assistant I could ask for.”

Cap is silent as Josh ceases talking, one eyebrow raised. He lets the pause stretch for an uncomfortably long time. Then says, “All I asked was how you know her.”

“Yeah,” Josh blows out a breath. “Yeah, I know.”

The two men don’t speak for a bit after that, just let the rolling hills and blue sky of rural Indiana pass as they drive.

-

_seasons, they always seem to stay the same_

-

Donna can’t seem to help the odd sense of nostalgia taking over, that she feels at home in Indiana because of the small ways it reminds her of Wisconsin. She hasn’t been home in what feels like so long, she’s due for a visit. Maybe.

To get off this train of thought, she rips her eyes from peering out the window to glance over at Cathy. The cute redhead is tapping her fingers on the steering wheel along to the country song coming from the radio. “You sure we’re not taking you away from something you need to be doing?” she asks the Indiana native, gripping the phone in her hand, hoping, praying someone will call back. 

Cathy smiles. “No, no, not at all. If anything I cherish the chance to yammer on to Josh about what we were discussing before.”

The assistant looks down at her lap, honing in on the scratched material of her seat. “Yeah, yeah, it looked like you guys were pretty engrossed in what you were talking about.” She suddenly realizes her lips are dry and she wishes she hadn’t forgotten her chapstick in another bag.

The other woman gives Donna a once-over at that, still smiling. “He brought you up at one point,” Cathy gives, waving at another truck driver as they pass him going the opposite way. 

Donna feels her heart pound. “Oh, did he? Probably to make fun of my paranoia that we could be left behind.”

Her buddy in the driver’s seat gives a small laugh, tucking some strawberry hair behind her ear. “He actually brought up your sharp opinions. Said you’re smarter than him.” Cathy says this casually, as if the very idea of Josh Lyman admitting to the intelligence of his loyal assistant is customary. She, on the other hand, has acrobats flipping somersaults in her stomach. 

Donna is about to reply, hoping to get more out of her, when the car starts sputtering. Cathy glances down at the dashboard, her face falling. “Uh-oh.”

“What is it?” Donna asks.

“You guys are going to kill me.”

Of course, they’re out of gas. Donna feels the urge to smack herself in the head with an open palm but stops herself. The idea of getting back on track with the campaign trail being easy is becoming too good to be true.

They pull over to the side of the road, gradually slowing down, and she hears Josh going off in the back seat. “Why are we slowing down?” he demands, the gravel crunching under the tires barely concealing his loud voice. “We’re out of gas?”

“Diesel.”

She hears him groan outwardly as they pull to a stop. She hops out of the cab, rounding the bed to make eye contact with her boss. Her arms cross over her chest. “Never heard from _again_ , Josh,” she remarks, the heat bearing down on her bad now. 

His sunglasses hide his true reaction to her comment. “If we go, we’re going together.” He stands and jumps as gracefully as he can from the bed, landing on his feet beside her. His hands find their way into his pants pockets. “Where’s the nearest gas station?”

-

_holding on to things we said we would change_

-

“This is fun. We’re roughing it,” Josh says as he kicks a lone rock while walking. Donna huffs and strips off her blazer. “This is fun.”

“You don’t sound very convincing,” she replies from beside him, holding out her purse in his line of sight. He stares at it for a moment as they walk, unsure, before she shakes it twice and he grabs hold of the straps to take it from her grasp. They both ignore how their hands meet when he does so. 

“What? You’ve never fantasized about something exactly like this?” he questions, a dying smirk evident in his voice.

“Fantasized about what exactly?” She wraps the blazer around her hips and ties it off, wondering if she still has a ponytail holder in some hidden pocket of her bag. “Getting left behind by our supposed coworkers - who barely noticed we weren’t with them by the way - and having to walk in the midwest heat to get to a gas station where we hope an unpaid volunteer is waiting for us?”

Josh raises his brows, forehead wrinkling. “Well, no, not exactly. I meant you’ve never fantasized about the whole stranded on a desert island with one man kind of thing?” 

She shoots a look at him. “I’m pretty sure we’ve had the conversation about what I would take with me to a desert island and I don’t remember you being on that list.”

His grin is wide and beautiful. She has to look away. “Not even my charm makes it?”

“Definitely not.”

They walk in silence for a bit after that, birds chirping around them and more cars driving by with occasional honks of encouragement. Neither have mentioned the fact that Josh is still carrying her purse for her, even if temporarily. 

Ten minutes pass before Josh is talking again. Because of course he is. “When did we have a conversation about desert islands?” he questions, voice rough from the lack of water. High on her list when they get to the gas station is hydration. She glances at him. 

“In your apartment,” she recalls, craning her neck back to squint at the sky as they walk. “I think I was changing your bandage on your chest and you, uncharacteristically, became very grateful and thanked me for helping you. Then you made some comment about how if you were stranded on a desert island one of the things you’d want with you was, well, me.”

Josh is looking at her, but she’s pointedly not looking at him. For reasons. “Because you’d be the one to get us off of it,” he finishes, nodding his head like he remembers the exact conversation. 

Donna remembers it, vividly, because after she had finished changing the dressing on his only two-week-old wound, he’d grabbed her hand and told her this with such earnesty, she wasn’t sure how to react. It’s few and far between that Josh illuminates his feelings about her, even if they’re strictly professional and platonic, but when he does it feels nothing short of a miracle. 

Her heart is pounding again. “Yeah. You’re lucky to have me.”

That brings back his regular smile, the thick air around them breathing a little easier. “Au contraire. It’s the other way around.”

She’s going to roll her eyes when she notices the gas station coming up in the distance. Her arm nudges him to point it out, his head snapping in its direction. They pick up the pace a bit, her hands grabbing at her purse from him to dig to find her phone. “I’ll call the volunteer if you go inside to grab us water?”

He nods, jogging toward the front door of the station while she plops down on the edge of the patio just to the side of the building. 

A couple minutes later Josh returns, looking a little pale in the face, but holding two sweating water bottles and his suit jacket over his arm. “The volunteer is on his way,” she relays, grabbing a bottle from his outstretched hand and immediately unscrewing it to chug some down. He takes a moment to roll his sleeves up a bit. “Watch out for a Jeep of some kind.”

Josh nods a second time, dropping down to sit beside her. “Our host inside made it clear what he thinks of who we work for.” She stops sipping her water at this, but he blazes past it. “Makes sense seeing as his team can’t even make sure everyone is accounted for.”

Donna gives a little laugh. “I don’t know if I’ll vote for him again.”

“Me neither.”

Another silence descends upon them as they get hydrated and think over the rest of the day. He asks her about the plane once they make it to the airport and she assures him everything should be lined up. She then glances to the sky again. “Do you think it’s gonna rain?” she asks.

He mimics her line of sight. “Nah. Sky is clear as day.”

“I have a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

“Yeah.”

Josh shrugs his shoulders. “Donna, if I relied on your opinion every time you had a feeling I’m not sure we’d still be working in the White House.” He gives her a sardonic look before sneaking a peek at his watch. 

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “You told Cathy you like my opinions.”

This gets his full attention, his eyes snapping to hers. She just realized he’s not wearing his sunglasses at the moment. “Did I?” he muses.

“Did you?”

He doesn’t warrant this with a response, just looks away again. She tries to punch down the disappointment that pools deep in her belly. The plastic bottle in her hand crinkles as her grip tightens over it. The noise dies between them as she relaxes.

“Wanna bet?” Donna throws out.

“What?”

“On if it rains or not,” she clarifies.

His eyebrows raise in that classic way. “You want to barter on the weather.”

Now it’s her turn to the shrug. “Why not? Who knows how long we’ll be wandering around before getting back home. Might as well make it interesting.”

Josh wants to smile, she can tell. “What’s the bet?”

Donna makes a show of thinking it over, closing her eyes with her face tilted toward the sun. She wonders if the heat on her face is from the actual heat or Josh’s stare fixated on her. She’s not sure which one she wishes it is. “If I win, you have to introduce yourself as _my_ assistant to everyone we interact with today,” she suggests, finishing the proclamation before opening her eyes to look at him again. 

He’s smirking, brows raised. She knows him well enough to know he’s trying to pretend not to be shocked. “That’s it?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. 

“That’s it.”

“Even though people may be aware of who I am and know I’m not some White House assistant?” Josh questions, voice doing that thing where he sounds bewildered even when he’s not. 

“Some White House assistant?” Donna deadpans back, face dropping. 

“You know what I mean,” he huffs, pretending to wipe dust from his suit pants. “‘Kay, fine, you’ve made your wager. It’s my turn.” He crooks an elbow against one of his knees, drops his head to lean against one open palm and throws her a classic smile. 

“This oughta be rich.”

“If it doesn’t rain,” he starts, “you have to confirm something for me.”

She waits, expecting him to add something on, but he just meets her gaze without anything else. Her brows are the ones that raise this time. “Confirm what?” she inquires, trying to wrack her brain for anything it could be. They’ve known each other a long time - going through every mental file folder is a task. 

Josh shrugs. “We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it.”

Against her better judgment, Donna finds her arm coming up to smack his shoulder. “That’s unfair! It’s a bet and I need to know the parameters of it.”

“Just something Joey Lucas said,” he gives in, rubbing at the spot where her hand made contact. “That’s it. God, Donna, give me a break.” He’s smiling still and she can’t help but smile back. Damn him. 

“Fine,” she agrees. “We’ll see how vague you’re being later when I’m raining all over your parade.”

-

_you move and i don’t really know what to say_

-

Their volunteer, Tyler, has a better car than Donna has ever had and she’s immediately in love with his Jeep. But she keeps this to herself as Josh clambers into the backseat, grabbing her hand to assist her up into the vehicle too. If she voices her love for the car Josh will turn it into some joke about how good she’d look being picked up in it to get to senior prom with their teenage volunteer driver. She knows better by now.

“It’s great of you to be volunteering for the campaign,” Donna comments, leaning forward to say this to him in the front seat. “You’re not even old enough to vote but here you are securing votes for the President.”

“We get school credit,” the teenager replies, grinning goofy regardless.

“Well, good for your school,” she remarks. Donna suddenly feels Josh’s hand at her shoulder, gathering some hair that had fallen across her face. Her neck stiffens and his touch brushes across her as he sweeps the blonde chunks back so they’re not dangling in front of her eyes. She’s still leaning forward over the center console to speak with Tyler and she’s now too anxious to move back to look at Josh. 

Luckily, she doesn’t need to, because suddenly Tyler is stopping the car. “Hang on, I’ll be just a second,” he says as he peels to the side of the road, throwing the car in park and lumbering out of it.

“What now?” Josh groans from behind her. She allows a peek at him, his head thrown back with his hand sliding down his face. Not looking at her.

“Hey Kiki!” Tyler is yelling at a girl walking along with her bike. “You don’t return phone calls anymore!”

As the girl is replying, Donna huffs out a breath and takes a moment to look at her phone. Her battery will only make it so far, so she’s attempting to use it sparingly. Luckily they managed to get Toby on the phone a bit ago, but he’d been zero help. Just mentioned how if he’d been able to talk to Cathy as well they probably wouldn’t be in this situation. Her boss had just laughed at that.

“To be young and in love,” Josh comments, watching the sad scene of Tyler getting rejected from beside her. She once again sneaks a look at him, at the angle of his jaw and the hidden dimple to the side of his mouth. 

“To be in love,” she echoes, glancing down at her lap. 

She can feel him about to answer, the air thick and hot, when Tyler turns and calls out to the duo in the Jeep. “You guys need to get to the airport right away? I offered to drive Kiki to school really quick. Not too far out of our way.”

“Uh, sorry,” Josh calls back, standing up in the Jeep to lean over the upper railing of it. He’s smirking again. “We’d love to help out your little girlfriend but we need to be on a plane in fifteen minutes that’s three miles away, okay? It takes off at one.”

“At one?” Tyler mirrors, eyebrows drawing down. Donna feels a bomb go off in the pit of her stomach at his tone. 

“Yes, one,” Josh returns, sounding mocking. 

Kiki makes an appearance, scoffing. “Are you guys stupid or something? It’s 1:45 right now.”

“No, it’s 12:45.”

“No, not here it’s not,” the teenage girl snarks back. 

Josh glances down at Donna, his own brows low now, jaw clenching. “Donna,” he growls, “please tell me this Cher wannabe isn’t right.”

The blonde below brushes off his Clueless reference and lets her head fall to the space between her knees. “Oh my god, she’s right.” The reality of it all crashes down on her for what feels like the hundredth time today. How she hadn’t realized this sooner is beyond her. She’s the smart one - she’s the one who _keeps_ them out of these situations. “We crossed over from Unionville into Dearborn County, which observes daylight savings time.”

She can’t see him, but she just knows Josh is releasing a long, slow, painful breath. Then: “We changed time zones? And we didn’t catch that beforehand?”

She’s thankful he said _we_ and not _you_.

As she’s digging the plane schedule out of her bag she feels him toss himself out of the Jeep to land on the ground. His hands scrub over the back of his head. “Donna, we changed time zones?” he bellows once more, slamming his hands against the side of the car. It doesn’t startle her, but it slightly annoys her. 

“Yes, Josh, I—”

“That’s good! That’s perfect!” he shouts. The motionless figures of Tyler and Kiki feet behind him are standing slack-jawed, unsure what to do at the outburst. “I love serving my country!” He throws his arms in the air and paces away from the car, down a tunnel just in front of them. Donna exhales before kicking into gear. 

“Is he okay?” Tyler asks, loping back toward where she’s sitting, alone, in the car. 

“He’s gonna need a minute to walk this off,” she answers. “Now help me figure out our next move.”

-

_too soon, am I supposed to feel this way?_

-

The drive toward the train station is quiet, full of tension. Josh moved from the backseat to the front seat, having been kicked up there by Donna when she didn’t wanna deal with his frustration anymore. Although he knows it’s not entirely her fault they missed the plane, he can’t help but need to feel irritation at something. He wants to apologize for his reaction but refuses to.

Tyler looks over at him, speaking suddenly. “You ever love so much it hurts?”

Josh is taken aback by this, meeting his questioning stare. He’s so young, so open and honest. Wonder what that’s like. No adult man Josh knows, including himself, has ever been so up front about something before. 

“Like,” Tyler clarifies when he doesn’t answer right away, “physically hurts?”

The Deputy Chief of Staff has the urge to glance back at his assistant, who he knows is now stretched out across the backseat she has to herself, eyes closed. Maybe she’s asleep and he can say things he wouldn’t say with her listening. The chances are too great, however. 

“Not sure,” Josh replies instead, cutting his eyes back to the civilization whipping by. He’s been in so many places today but none of them where he wants to be. “My capability of feeling love is considered tainted by many women. Just ask them yourself.” 

There’s a snort from the back and Josh smiles inwardly. He knew she wasn’t dozing. 

Tyler lets out a sigh. “I don’t know what to do, man. I’m in love and she doesn’t even care. How do I cope with that?”

Josh isn’t quite sure what makes him say what he says. Maybe it’s the memory of a cold hand on his broken chest, setting down water for him to drink, skimming over his hair after a long painful day where he couldn’t get comfortable or rest. Maybe it’s the image of a darkened silhouette at his open bedroom door, a voice asking him if he’s okay after another nightmare of hot lead pulsing into his body, erupting his insides. Maybe it’s the ghost of warmth that used to hold him, help him drift to sleep, her body adorned in an old Harvard sweatshirt she had dug out of some box. Maybe it’s his inability to love correctly since all of his love has been poured into someone already and it’s left him lost, unsure, and wounded again and again. 

“You don’t,” he responds softly, ignoring the knowledge that Donna is for sure hearing the weight behind his words. “You just learn to live with it.”

There’s another silence, Tyler pondering on what the older man said, and the woman in the backseat trying to shake off her guilt. She pushes into a sitting position, smoothing down her hair. 

“I’m sorry about the time zones.”

Josh doesn’t look back at her. “Yeah.”

-

_reach out but I don’t wanna get in your way_

-

“Tyler,” Josh asks as they fall out of the Jeep, “what’s a Hoosier?”

The kid looks back at him as they all walk toward the diner he had suggested, smiling and shrugging. “A hoosier’s someone from Indiana,” he answers, grabbing the front door and swinging it open. 

Josh glances over at Donna. “You Wisconsinites have a name for yourselves?”

She has to taper down the relief she feels that he’s talking to her again. It seems he managed to push past the time zone debacle. Nevertheless, she rolls her eyes, following after him into the air conditioned building. Inside is very rural-diner, with a dark brown and red atmosphere. “Even if we did I wouldn’t tell you so I can retain some of the dignity I have left.” She gives him a triumphant smile.

He smirks back as they come up to the bar, his elbows finding space on the surface to lean against. Tyler disappears to sit at a table. “We can only be here for about ten minutes, tops,” Josh reminds, knocking a knuckle against the bartop. “Excuse me?” His voice rings out, into what Donna assumes is the kitchen. A couple seconds later an older woman with dark wrinkled skin appears, holding a notepad.

“No need to shout,” she grumbles. “What can I get for you?”

“Food. To go,” Josh replies. 

The woman’s reply is a firm hand on the hip and a humorless face. Donna wants to laugh at the way her boss’ face drops.

“‘Kay,” Josh mutters. “Three cheeseburgers. One of them burnt, if that’s all right.”

“And—” Donna starts. 

“One of them with tomato and lettuce,” Josh finishes before she can, reaching into one of his pockets for his wallet. She wants to be surprised he knows her order, but of course she can’t be. They’ve eaten at the mess together dozens of times, grabbed lunch on random Fridays when he felt like getting out of the White House, and ordered food to his apartment when she’d been basically living there. Yet the sentiment of him remembering such a detail squeezes at her sternum once again. 

The older waitress nods, scribbling all of this down and listing a total. As Donna takes care of grabbing the receipt so he can be reimbursed later, Josh glances over at the TV tethered in a high corner. 

“Can we change the channel to CNN?” he asks the woman quickly before she disappears to get their food started. “I’ve been a little out of touch with the world today and would like to see what’s going on.”

She clucks her tongue. “We only get three channels. Don’t need cable here.”

“Oh.”

Donna looks to the screen as well. “The picture is kind of fuzzy, ma’am.”

The woman nods, already starting to hobble to the kitchen. “We think there’s going to be weather,” she replies before disappearing through a swinging door. Donna lets a grin creep onto her face as she slowly turns to make eye contact with Josh. 

“Weather,” she repeats proudly.

He grunts. “We’ll see.”

-

_too little, too late_

-

“Hello?” Donna answers as she licks the last of her ketchup off her finger, wedging her phone between her ear and her shoulder. “CJ?”

“Hey, Donna,” the Press Secretary replies, sounding distracted. “I couldn’t find you at your desk. When you get a moment, will you tell Josh to stop by my office?” The sound of shuffling papers can be heard in the background.

She has to stifle a long exhale. CJ doesn’t even _know_ they aren’t back in DC with them? She closes her white styrofoam to-go box and pushes it off her lap. Then she clears her throat, thrusts her phone out to Josh, and looks at him expectantly. He’s mid-chew, but raises his brow. 

“Hello?” he says after pressing the phone to his ear. Donna tries to stretch her leg out in the backseat of the Jeep, but finds the car is starting to feel cramped.

“Oh, Josh,” CJ continues. “Can you come by my office when you get a moment?”

He has to pause in order to not cuss in response. “CJ, did you not notice we weren’t on the plane with you?” he asks incredulously, leaning his head back against the headrest of his seat. Tyler throws on his turn signal. 

“Oh, you weren’t?”

“No. We missed the plane. We missed the _motorcade_.”

“Bummer.”

Josh clenches his jaw, which Donna notices from behind him. “You’re not gonna ask us if we’re all right? If we’re gonna be home soon?”

CJ sighs. “Are you guys all—”

Donna’s boss flips the phone closed before their friend can say anything else and wordlessly hands it back to her. She takes it, throwing it back into her purse. “We almost to the train station, Tyler?” she asks, bringing up a hand to pinch at her nose while she closes her eyes. 

“Yeah, it’s actually right up here.”

Josh raises a fist into the air in triumph as the Jeep pulls into a parking lot, a large, beautiful, red train waiting for them. Donna smiles, ready for her worry to dissolve the minute they find seats on that locomotive. She collects their trash to toss in a garbage can after jumping out of the car.

“Tyler,” Josh is saying as they make their way to the entrance to the train. “The Bartlet for America Campaign and Democratic Party thank you for all your help today.” Donna jogs a bit to catch up with them. 

“You got it, Mr. Lyman,” the teenager replies, grinning goofy again. 

“Call me Josh.”

Donna follows Josh up the stairs onto the train, the two of them turning to look down at Tyler one last time. “The fuel is regular fuel? The engineer knows the route? We didn’t change time zones?” she asks for clarification, her shoulders drooping knowing they will finally be heading home. 

Tyler nods. “I’m telling you, all your worries will be gone 98 miles that way.” He points to his left. 

So when the train lurches to the right, heading in the wrong direction, Donna can practically feel the anger fall out of Josh’s defeated sigh. Not even the touch on her back as they move to sit down is enough to bring her spirits up.

-

_I know that’s what you’re gonna say_

-

Josh is gazing out the window beside her when she taps the end of her pen against the papers in front of her, willing him to look in her direction. “I have a plan,” Donna declares. He didn’t realize she had thrown hair up with one of her toothy clips, the back of her neck bare. Instead of looking there he tries to look at her face.

“We’re gonna switch trains in Bedford,” she informs. “We will then be going in the right direction. We’re not gonna make the 6:15—that was a pipe dream, that was folly.” He smiles small at her word usage, but frowns as the exhaustion crashes over him again. This round and round without confirmation of making it home is starting to really itch at him. 

Donna continues. “There’s a 9:30 leaving Indianapolis International with a 45 minute layover in Chicago. The agent warned the flight could be delayed due to bad weather.” At this, she looks him directly in the face, challenge darkening her expression. 

“What are the chances?” he asks instead of giving into her advance. 

“For what it’s worth,” she bulldozes, “the woman in the diner said the reason the picture on the TV was fuzzy—”

“No, no!” Josh cuts in, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not going to rely on another _feeling_ , Donna. If we want weather information we’ll call the White House Operations Center.” His voice has taken on the edge of absolute frustration and he really wishes he could help it. 

Her reply takes a moment to come, but when it does, he can hear the defeat she’s radiating. “Well, we can do that when we find a payphone. But we can’t do that right now.” She sets her pen down. 

“Why not?”

“‘Cus my—”

Josh finishes for her. “Cellphone battery’s out.”

They sit in silence for a minute, watching views whip by them for what feels like the hundredth time today. Donna remembers her feeling of nostalgia when she’d been in Cathy and Cap’s truck earlier today, the cozy reminders of her home in Wisconsin. All of that feels like ages ago. This has been the longest day of her life and even though she wouldn’t rather have spent it with anyone but Josh, she’s starting to hate that he was the one she’s been stranded with. 

“I need information,” he says suddenly. “I need to know what’s going on.”

She tosses him the newspaper she’d bummed off of a guy at the front of the car who had finished reading it. “I got you this paper.”

“Donna, if you think I give a damn about preparations for some fair—”

“What do you want from me, Josh?” she finally lets out, voice clipped. His eyes snap to hers, forehead wrinkling at her tight expression. “I have been doing everything for us to get us back home and sure, some things haven’t worked in our favor, but I’m _trying_. Give me a fucking break.”

Her last sentence hangs between them for a moment, her shoulders stiff in the seat next to him and her fingers clenching her biceps from her crossed arms. Josh swallows, letting out a small breath. He reaches out gently, resting his hand on the elbow closest to him. At his contact she relaxes minimally. 

“I forgive you for the time zones,” he murmurs, hoping the humor plays well.

Donna rolls her head to look him in the eye, the exhaustion she is also feeling finally showing in her face. He didn’t realize how much of her annoyance about today she’s been hiding, but she’s not concealing it anymore. It seems like their journey has officially aged them both. “Thank you,” she accepts softly, her eyes slipping closed. He removes his touch from her arm. 

“At least I got stuck with you and not someone else,” Josh gives to try and lighten the mood. “God forbid I be here with Toby or Sam. One would be gnawing off everyone’s head and the other would be wanting us to stop everywhere we could to ask townsfolk how they feel about the President.”

His assistant nods, her lips curving so slightly he could blink and miss it. “I am the one who would get us off the island, remember?”

He blows out a breath. “I can’t believe I let you know that I’d want you if stranded. I’m supposed to be capable and helping run a country but admit I need my assistant more than I need myself.” Josh looks at her again, her face flickering in reaction to his statement.

“To be fair,” Donna quirks, “I made sure you got from point A to point B for three months after Rosslyn.” He hides his wince at that word. “I think anyone would be surprised if you pretended to need yourself more than you need me.” Then her mouth finally forms into a full-on, teeth-filled smile, and it helps him smile as well. 

“I guess you’re right.” For not the first time, his hand tingles at the idea of grabbing hers, letting their fingers tangle together. He ignores the instinct. “I bet Charlie would’ve been a good person to be stranded like this with.”

“He wouldn’t have been nearly as patient as I’ve been,” she points out, sliding down in her chair a bit more. 

Josh chuckles. “You’re more patient with me than I deserve.”

Donna searches his face at this, his eyes angled out the window and away from her. The magnitude of him being so honest with her today (first about the desert island thing and now this) cocoons warmth deep in her chest. They haven’t spoken like this in what feels like a long time, their last vulnerable interactions having been during the whole debacle with Cliff and the diary. And before that, Rosslyn aftermath. 

“It’s what you pay me for,” she retorts, still soft. He finally looks over at her after those words, his face still not giving much away. 

“Yeah,” is all he says. But as her eyes droop, he feels the tender affection he’s always had for her wash over him with full force. And it’s part intention and part involuntary that his arm comes up and around to pull her into his side, her head finding space in the nook of his neck and shoulder to rest. He drops his own back against his seat, permitting the heat of her body to ease his mind for just a bit.

And if his fingers grip along her waist, it’s an accident.

-

_i see it in your eyes, your eyes, your eyes  
we ain’t satisfied_

-

They get off the train at the stop previously given by Donna. She had dozed for the last part of the trip. Josh’s arm had fallen asleep, but he allowed it. He had to nudge her gently awake and tell her they were almost to where they needed to be, where she then moved swiftly off of him. He tried to pretend like it didn’t sting.

She tucks herself back into her blazer as they manage to hail a cab to get them to the airport. There’s a respectable distance between them as they ride, the drive mostly quiet. It’s dark outside now, the blue day dimming to gray.

“I can’t wait to take a hot shower,” Donna comments idly, unsure why she’s starting conversation but knows the silence is deafening.

Josh nods from his side of the cab. “I know I’ve worn suits for too long before but I need to get out of this one.” The tired pulls on his face are getting deeper now, his hand rubbing at his forehead a little too often.

“I’d have to agree,” she responds, a teasing smile only barely lifting the sides of her mouth. 

Luckily, he smiles back. “Hey, you’re not so hot yourself.”

She snickers and they pull up to the airport. They pay, thank the driver, and slide out to head into the large glass doors. As they do, they immediately notice the frantic energy all around. Josh’s eyebrows furrow as they walk toward the desk of their airline after bypassing multiple people on phones and angry voices.

“What’s going on?” Josh asks the uniformed-attendant.

They’re clearly in the middle of a call, but cover the bottom half of the phone and look at the couple standing in front of them. “A heavy rainstorm is moving through. All flights have been delayed or cancelled.”

Donna’s chest tightens at the news, her shoulders falling. Of course. Of course all flights are delayed or cancelled—why would they be close to going home when their day has been so accommodating thus far? She lets an elbow drop onto the surface in front of them, her heading falling shortly after. Josh gets to be the one to deal with this. 

“We had a flight leaving in an hour for Virginia,” he tells the attendant, voice like the blade of a knife. “Please tell me it’s just been pushed back.”

“I’m—I’m sorry. It looks like it’s been cancelled for now—”

“For _now_?” Josh hollers. On instinct, Donna reaches over with a free hand to feel around for one of his. When they find each other, he lets her clasp onto him, her grip squeezing to try to calm him down. Not that she’s doing much better.

“We’ll have more information soon. If you can stay in town—”

Josh has clearly heard all that he wants to hear and uses their conjoined hands to tug Donna away from the airline counter. She stumbles after him, trying to match his pace as they lope back toward the doors. “Where are we going?” she asks, heart beating a messy rhythm all of a sudden. “I should look at new flights, see if we can get moved onto a new one as soon as possible—”

“No,” Josh breathes. “We’ll—”

They step outside and feel a torrential downpour instantly. Heavy sheets of black ice seem to be cutting through the air, each of them getting soaked to the bone within moments. They freeze at the severe change in weather, Josh looking up at the sky and letting his face receive the brunt of it for a second. Donna tries to shield her eyes with a flat hand. 

“Come on!” she howls over the loud noise of water slapping against concrete and horns honking as people attempt to leave. “Let’s go back inside—”

“It’s raining,” he says, cutting her off. 

She pauses. “Yes. Come on—”

“Let’s get a cab,” he interrupts again. Donna goes to reply with the contrary but he’s already pulling her toward the curb, other hand in the air waving hysterically. 

“Josh!” she yells, water running down her face and into her mouth. She can feel tendrils of her hair plastered to her temples. “We need to find another flight! Let’s go back inside and figure it out!”

He doesn’t look at her, just continues trying to wave down any yellow car, but his fingers exponentially flex over hers. “I’m tired, Donna,” he shouts back. There are droplets clinging to his eyelashes. She’s close enough to see them. “We’ll find a flight tomorrow. I’m tired.”

She opens her mouth, attempting to find a plausible response to this, when a taxi screeches to a halt in front of them. Josh opens the back door wordlessly and motions her into it. He follows after.

-

_i’m stuck, babe, stuck with nowhere to go  
it cuts, babe, cus we’re just taking it slow_

-

Because fate is working against them tonight, the cab drops them off two blocks over from the hotel Josh had requested they go to. It was some inn that he found in one of the travel guides the cab had laying on the ground of the backseat, but it appears their taxi driver got the streets wrong, and now Donna and Josh are left to scramble two blocks over, in the dumping rain, to find warmth for the night.

It’s rare that Donna can call a victory over Josh. The fact that she won their bet, that her win is showering all over them, does nothing but put a sour taste in her mouth. She can’t even gloat—she’s feeling the effects of her triumph just as much as he is. Celebration will have to come later and quietly.

When they finally manage to jog their way up to the front doors of the hotel, she has never felt more sodden in her whole life. Water has seeped through her two layers of clothes and feels like it’s settled in her chest. Her teeth are chattering, she’s sure her toes are blue beneath her socks, and Josh’s shirt is sticking to every contour of his torso. They need a fucking break.

The minute they’re inside, Donna pulls out her wallet that is now a mushy mess of fabric. “Hi, do you have two rooms available?”

The gal at the desk smiles. “Let me take a look.”

The tapping of keys and sounds of rain pounding against the building couple together to remind Donna of where she is. Not just presently or currently, but in general. The proverbial crossroads she’s been stuck at for ages—here, in this position, with him. She wants to glance over at where he’s standing just behind her, but refrains from doing so. 

“Apologies,” the desk gal says after a minute. “Because of the weather and travel cancellations, we’ve become unexpectedly busy.” Donna feels her whole body deflate as she clicks around on her monitor. “The bit of good news I do have is that we have one more room available, if you’re interested.”

The presence of Josh behind her is hard to ignore. Donna bites her bottom lip. “Uh—”

“We’ll take it,” he interrupts, reaching forward to grab the credit card out of Donna’s hand. He slides it to the woman, not returning the eye contact of his assistant. A swallow gets lodged halfway down her throat. “Two beds?”

“Ah, no just one.”

Still, no eye contact. “That’s fine.”

Donna looks away and down at her slightly-more-dry hands, unsure what to do with them. There’s more clicking and typing on the desk gal’s end before she nods. “And your name, sir?” she questions, apparently deciding Josh is the one to talk to since Donna almost rejected the offer of one room for the two of them. 

“Joshua Lyman,” he replies. There’s a pause before he clears his throat. “And this is Donna Moss. I’m her assistant.”

Donna’s lips curl into a grin. The ghost of his touch flickers across her back for a second, but it must have been him shifting forward to sign their receipt. “Welcome Mr. Lyman and Ms. Moss,” the woman greets. She plops two keycards down on the counter before them. “Room 323 is ready for you.”

-

_we waste away our lives, our lives, our lives  
we ain’t satisfied_

-

Josh is getting off the phone with Leo when Donna returns to the room. Her battery is still out so they managed to catch him using the landline in their room - his frustration at them having to stay overnight is expected, but leaves a deep rift in Josh’s chest all the same. Hopefully it doesn’t damage their relationship further.

“The gift shop had some stuff,” Donna tells him as she throws a pile of clothes onto the bed. “Some sweatpants and tee shirts. No socks though, unfortunately.”

Josh nods, blowing out a breath. “That’s fine. We have a heater we can hang our clothes over to get them to dry faster.”

She picks up one of the pairs of sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt that says _Indiana State_ in block letters. He crinkles his nose at the sight as she drops her purse into one of the hotel room chairs. “That’s no Harvard,” he comments, head nodding toward the merchandise under her arm.

Donna snorts. “Well, last I checked, my Harvard sweatshirt is back at home. Sorry to disappoint.”

“You mean _my_ Harvard sweatshirt?”

She rolls her head around on her shoulders, the sounds of her neck cracking filling the room. “You haven’t worn that thing since 1990. I won’t apologize for taking it off your hands.” She reaches down and slips off her shoes and socks. Josh clears his throat, feeling odd all of a sudden. 

“You okay if I take the first shower?” she asks.

He nods, having to look away from her heading toward the bathroom. “Sure.”

Donna disappears, the door clicking shut behind her. Josh falls back on the bed, exhaling long as he tries to conjure up any image that doesn’t include his naked, wet assistant on the other side of the wall. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, grinding his teeth together. 

The shower whirs on, which doesn’t settle the clench of his stomach. To pass the time, he gets to his feet, following her example by removing his socks and shoes. The relief he feels at stripping off the wet clothing (not only because it’s soaked—but it’s also the shit he’s been wearing for almost a full 24 hours) helps him ease a little. After sliding off his wrinkled and damp button-down and tie, he stretches his arms over his head. The shower is still pounding in the next room and he wishes now, more than ever, that he’d taken up yoga at some point. 

He’s in just his ruined slacks and white t-shirt when he hears Donna turn off the water. He gulps and sits back down on the bed, unsure what to do with his body all of a sudden. 

As he waits for her to come back into the room, he clicks on the TV, flipping to CNN. The news that flares across the screen has him scrambling back to his feet. _Pipe Bomb Explosion in Cedar Rapids_ taunts his vision as a news reporter finally makes an appearance.

“Donna!” he calls, hands on his hips. 

The door opens behind him. “What is it?” she asks. He doesn’t vocally reply, just head nods toward the television set. He feels her come up and stop beside him, arms crossing over her chest. 

“Fuck,” she curses quietly. 

“Yeah.”

They watch in silence as footage rolls of black smoke and red fire pouring from a building, a school where students and teachers are seated outside, clutching each other and crying. “When did this happen?” Donna whispers.

“About an hour ago.”

The two of them watch for a couple more minutes before Josh reaches behind and grabs the sweatpants she’d bought for him off the bed. “I’m gonna shower,” he mutters. He looks back at her, feeling his heart squeeze at the sight of her wet hair, scrubbed face, and loungewear. She’s so soft in this moment he has to look away again. “Call CJ for me, will you?”

“Of course,” she answers instantly, no hesitation.

He showers as quick as he can, the hot water a welcoming embrace after the day he’s had. Although Josh relinquished the idea of a higher power some time ago, he can’t help but wonder if their inability to gain some luck has to do with God punishing him. For what, the list is endless.

He finishes up and towels off, pulling on the heavenly dry clothes. Donna is sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes trained on the TV back in the room. He bypasses her to go throw his still-damp clothes over the heater in the corner. “Get a hold of CJ?” he asks.

“Yeah. Sam is already writing up a statement for the President. Everyone’s going haywire, it seems.” She exhales long and slow, stretching her arms over her head.

When a strip of skin above the drawstring of her sweatpants makes an appearance, Josh turns away quickly to finish his task. Only to be greeted by the sight of a pair of white satin panties, lace around the edges, hanging off the heater on one side. His mouth dries up. He can’t seem to move his body even though every thought in his head is attempting to kickstart his nervous system again. 

“Josh?” Donna asks from behind him, concern in her voice.

He gulps. “Sorry, I felt faint for a second.”

“Do you need me to get some water? I can—” she cuts herself off. Judging by her sudden stout silence, Josh gathers she’s wandered closer and can see him ostentatiously gaping at her panties that are bared in front of him. “I, uh, sorry, I meant to move them before you got out of the shower.” She reaches around him quickly and snatches them from his gaze. He’s trying everything in his power to stop picturing what she looks like in them. 

“You’re fine, Donna,” he manages to spit out, clearing his throat. “Was just a shock, that’s all.” He shakes his head, still not looking at her, and throws his own damp undershirt and boxers onto the heater. 

“Sorry,” she mutters again, voice far away.

Josh finally turns and spots her sitting on one side of the bed, face a mild pink and eyes closed in embarrassment. He clears his throat again. “Did you fill CJ in on how we won’t be back till tomorrow?” he questions to get her mind on something else. The welcome distraction is one he needs as well.

She nods, not visibly reacting when he sits on the other side of the bed beside her. He wonders if she intentionally gave him the side she knows he sleeps on even when alone. “Yeah, but she didn’t have much to say on it since other things came up,” she replies. Their TV is still blaring information about the pipe bomb. “The confirmed number of deaths increased.”

Josh looks at the screen, leaning back against the headboard and throwing his hands up to rest behind his neck. “If I prayed I would pray to never live through a day like this ever again.”

“You were that miserable to be stuck with me?”

“You’ll find any excuse to twist my words.”

“I’ll find any excuse to expose the truth behind them.”

He looks over at his assistant at that, a smile teasing the edges of his mouth. “I never congratulated you,” he says instead of commenting on her last statement.

“For what?”

“Winning our bet.” Her face dims back to it’s normal color at that, a grin finding her own lips. “I have to admit, I really didn’t think you’d beat me at that. Your feeling was right for once.”

Donna hums. “It’s the Moss way, I must say. And thank you for elegantly accepting the terms—I can sleep peacefully knowing our hotel desk clerk believes you’re my assistant.” She leans back against the headboard as well, crossing her feet at the ankles. 

Josh looks over the two of them, stretched out on the mattress, dressed in hastily bought sweatpants, winding down after a horrific day. He can’t help the warmth of familiarity tugging at his chest, or that the need to open up his side for her to lay into is palpable and sweet on his tongue. He shakes his head to rid himself of the overwhelming sensation. 

After a couple more minutes of CNN, they decide to flip the channel to something a little less heavy. Some movie with a car chase is on HBO so they settle on that. A few more minutes of easy silence go by before Donna turns to him. 

“What were you going to ask me if you had won?”

Josh meets her gaze, ticking his jaw. “Who says I was gonna ask you something?”

“You said I would have to confirm something for you,” she returns. He’s stiff, shoulders tense and eyes threatening to leave hers. “Something that Joey Lucas said.” This conversation from hours prior feels like days ago at this point, but of course she remembers it. Donna never forgets anything.

“Did I?”

“Josh.”

An exhale leaves his nose loudly. “Just some off-handed comment she made after the State of the Union last year.”

Donna doesn’t lower her curious brows. “And?”

He attempts to smirk. “You’re not gonna let this go? You won, Donna, revel in it.”

“It was important enough for you to bring up before,” she points out, arms crossed. They’re pointedly looking away from each other now. “You don’t want to ease my mind even a little? You know I’m not gonna drop it.”

“Well, you should.”

She risks a glance at him, his face stony and his jaw still clenched. Her mouth opens to continue arguing but she closes it just as quickly. They watch TV for a little bit longer before the atmosphere of the day finally coming to a close swarms both of them. His yawn and her drooping eyelids seal the deal. 

“You okay if I turn off the light?” she asks, voice soft and syrupy. He feels his chest tighten again. 

“Yeah. I’ll turn off the TV as well.”

When they’re finally in darkness, on their respective sides of the bed, burrowed under the covers, everything becomes so thick. The air, the tension, Josh’s throat—he can’t swallow down whatever feeling is threatening to boil over. He’s turned away from her, facing the wall that holds the bathroom door. Suddenly, it’s hot, so hot, he’s pushing off the covers so fast, the back of his neck sparking with sweat.

In the enveloping black, he’s panting, but he hears Donna’s voice. “Josh? Are you okay?” 

His chest can’t get enough air, enough oxygen so he’s clutching at the material of his white shirt, breathing heavy. “Donna?” he asks. It’s all so familiar—she’s here, she’s here with him. Hand searching for him in the darkness, grasping hold and not letting go, cool and strong.

If he had a dime for every time he’s lived this exact moment with her, dreamed of it after he was deemed recovered, and thought about it every time he’s watched her walk away, he could retire ten years early. Why he’s suddenly feeling this way after a good full year of no traumatic attacks is baffling—unless it’s easy to blame it on their extraneous circumstances, or the fact that they’re back in bed together—either way, his body is triggered. Who knows. At least he can say he’s glad their paths crossed in this manner yet again. 

She’s shushing him gently. He didn’t realize his breathing had been coming out in wracking heaves and now she’s pulling him toward her in the dark. He curls into her instinctually, head finding her chest and arms securing around her waist. Her fingers find home in his hair, running across his scalp and down his back in soothing gestures.

When the ghost of pain recedes, the old familiar friend that is his wound waves goodbye and leaves Josh alone once more. That’s when he notices his face is wet. Has he been crying?

Donna doesn’t stop her soft ministrations, holding him and giving him faint touches to let her know she’s there. Easy to depend on, ready to help.

His throat is dry. “Donna?”

She hums. “Do you need anything?”

Still unable to step forward with the vulnerability, to break the boundary of intimacy with her, he veers to a different path. The fork in their road leads to a change in whatever it is between them regardless, but the route he chooses to get there at this moment is not what she expects next.

“Joey Lucas said the only reason you were pushing me to ask her out was to misdirect yourself and me,” Josh admits, voice still slightly breathless and eyes squeezing shut. With the room so dark he wouldn’t have been able to see her even with his eyes open anyway. “She said you had feelings for me.”

There’s a stuffy silence after that, her warm palm against his back stopping motion. He’s afraid to move a muscle, unsure why he so boldly stated this and also uncertain of what her reaction will be. He still can’t breathe, it appears.

“She said that?” Donna murmurs, voice quiet and far away. Josh sniffs, pulling his head up and off her chest, wondering if he can try to see her face in the dark. He’s unsuccessful, but he can make out a vague shape.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

Despite the tears still drying on Josh’s face from his unexpected bout of vulnerability, he finds it in him to spike his response with a bit of satire. “You’re repeating everything I’m saying instead of giving a tangible contribution.”

Even without seeing her expression, he knows she’s trying to look away from him. “Well, what did you say in return?”

“To Joey?”

Her silence confirms this.

“I don’t think I said anything,” Josh answers, wondering if either of them are going to shift once realizing his arms are still wrapped securely around her torso, keeping them close but not close enough. “Wasn’t really sure what to say to someone alluding that my assistant thought I was hot shit.”

Donna, on instinct, reaches up and smacks his shoulder, somehow locating one in the pitch black still cocooning them. A grin breaches his lips instinctually. “Come on, Donna,” he goes on, “I’m only messing with you.”

“But you said you wanted me to confirm something for you,” she hits back, recalling the exact parameters of their bet from so many eons ago. “Did you want me to confirm whether or not Joey had been right?”

Josh’s fingers flex against where they’re trapped between her back and the bed. He hears her breath catch ever so gently.

“Yeah, that may have been what I was going for,” he confesses.

There’s more silence, the room growing darker and colder it seems. He wishes more than ever that he could read every flicker of her face, every line softening or hardening. Yet he doesn’t dare move to turn on a light - whether it’s because he doesn’t want to leave their pseudo-embrace or startle her, he’s unsure. Regardless, he waits with bated breath for her to speak again. 

“Josh,” she finally breathes, voice soft and warm. He swallows. “I—”

Quickly, without much thought, Josh interrupts her (much like he tends to) with a press to her mouth. He somehow manages to discover her mouth despite his inability to see her whole face. His lips slide over hers easily, the smallest of kisses, testing the waters. It’s not that she doesn’t necessarily kiss back, her lips respond in kind with a light press of their own, but the way her back stiffens in a shell-shocked type of way has him backing off just a couple seconds later.

“Sorry,” he’s immediately apologizing. “I—I’m not sure where that came from—” 

Her arms come up and around his shoulders then, pulling his weight back on top of her. Their mouths find each other once more, hot and fast, a kind of guttural moan tumbling out of the back of Josh’s throat without him meaning to. He grips at her middle harder, rolling so his whole body is atop hers as their lips dance a dirty tango together, each pass opening them wider and wider to one another.

One of his legs slips between hers as he gets a better stance above her, leaning back ever so slightly to give them a touch more space. She emits the quietest whine at his retreat, which he rewards with a smile against her mouth, one hand coming to the side of her head to push back her now almost-dry hair. 

“So,” Josh mutters as he breaks their kiss to travel down her neck to the damned sweatshirt belonging to a university that’s not his, “Joey was right?”

Donna groans a bit as his hands cup the sides of her waist, smoothing the shirt up to reveal more and more of her skin. “Shut up,” she gives instead of an actual answer, fingers sliding over his always-insane hair that’s also drying in curls against his temples. He grins as his nose bumps over the ridges of her rib cage. 

“At least you were right for once,” he continues, fingers tugging the shirt dangerously high on her chest. “How many times can you say you’ve won a bet of ours?”

“To be honest, we haven’t called that many bets together.”

“Yeah, because if we did, I’d win all of them.”

She digs her nails into the muscle of his shoulder, his jaw ticking. He takes it as a sign to move forward, his hands officially pushing the bastard of a shirt far enough that she brings her arms up to remove it from her frame entirely. In the dark, his hands find her breasts, teeth cutting into his tongue so he can refrain from releasing an animalistic growl at the feeling beneath his palms. 

“Josh,” she gives on a breathy moan. Their lips fuse together. “This was the first bet we ever had and _I won_. That should tell you something.”

Even in the midst of their relationship rocketing up to a different level, the dynamic between them has certainly shifted, yet they have time to make jabs and get quips in. Josh’s heart squeezes at her defiance. God damn this woman. 

“Shut up,” he echoes her earlier sentiment. She gladly does. 

It’s her turn to get his white Hanes shirt up and over his head before he’s falling back down on the bed above her, face lower as his hands eagerly find the drawstring of her sweatpants. “Donna,” he pants, voice rough, “I’m gonna say this once. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself once we start.”

“We haven’t already started?” she inquires, amused.

He growls. “You know what I fucking mean.”

At her laugh, her beautiful, melodious laugh, he uses it as an invitation to push forward. He yanks down the sweatpants, hands finding territory yet untouched, her smooth skin warm under his palms. He goes to find the next bit, the waistband of her panties, but remembers there are none and moans, his forehead dropping against the soft part of her stomach. 

“You all right?” she chuckles, fingers splaying along the upper part of his back. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Josh doesn’t let her get another word in, just brings one hand to the notch between her legs and stakes claim on whatever he can find. At the first touch to a finger between her folds, Donna releases a high little mewl, hips arching with her. He smiles. He can’t see much, but he can work with what he’s got. 

He lets his fingers do the exploring, getting a feel for her, all the soft parts, the wet ridges. This only lasts a dozen or so seconds before he’s pretty sure he has a grasp on where everything is, what’s driving her crazy. He uses his thumb and forefinger to spread the top of her pussy open, baring her to the cool air around them, then ducking forward to lick his way into her. 

Her dark moan fills him with heat from his head to his toes, the ache to see her face more prominent than ever. But this moment they’ve created for themselves, this corner in time, feels too tentative and new to wash light over just yet. If his first time with Donna has to be swarmed in darkness, in secrecy for now, so be it. He wants as much as he can get from her before any reality sets in soon. 

“Josh,” she mutters, hips rolling against his face. 

He abides, letting his lips seal over her clit to give her the proper attention she deserves. Donna lets some curses tumble past her lips, expletives that would put her good Wisconsin mother to shame. Who can blame her though—Josh eats pussy like he talks shit in the White House. Poignant, filthy, fast, easy. Like he was born to do it. 

When her orgasm creeps up on her, Josh already has a finger buried inside, pumping in and out loosely. Mostly to get her ready for what could come next. It’s his ministrations on her clit that are pushing her to the edge of the cliff. The white hot heat scalding her lower stomach bubbles, her eyes clamping shut. 

“Josh!” she gasps as she’s there, so close, so close.

Her toes curl as his tongue makes good work over every sensitive nerve-ending, the comet soaring through her finally reaching a head as it explodes in her womb. The moan that forces its way from her sternum rocks Josh practically back on his heels—he’ll have to remember this for his ego later on down the road. It seems he’s made Donna Moss come harder than she’s ever come before.

After winding her back down, his mouth slowing against her heat, does he press off after one more kiss to her mound. His fingers slide out of her as he surges up, mouth descending on her nipple while she still catches her breath.

“Josh,” she says for the third time in five minutes. 

He pops his head up from her chest, their eyes hoping to connect in the pitch black still swarming them. They both know they’ve locked gazes no matter what. 

“Today—” she begins, stopping short when she’s unsure how to continue. He can hear it in the way she cuts herself off. The weight settling between the two of them, their newfound chemistry, the expansion of what they are. It’s all so much. Only heightened by one of their most stressful days together, uncertain where they were or how they would get home. But they found each other within it, led to this point by everything behind them. Today felt like the spearhead of it all.

“Yeah,” he returns, hand finding her face. His thumb slides over her cheek, the flutter of her lashes catching his skin. He gives a breathy laugh, kissing her, warm and soft. “There’s no one else I’d rather be stranded with.”

Their touches turn deeper after that, words finally ceasing between the two. Josh finds himself at a loss as her fingers dive beneath his own sweatpants, her touch confident and an easy smile pressing to his lips. He grins back, rolling them again so she’s on top. In his eyes, it’s where she’s always belonged.

With him.

-

_(taking it slow)_

-

Waking up in each other’s arms the next morning, the light of day finally shedding on them, isn’t as awkward as either were expecting it to be. Sure, the act of having to move off of each other, smile and get dressed in their dry but wrinkled clothes from yesterday, bypassing each other easily as they ready, brushing their teeth with their fingers and the hotel toothpaste—it’s odd, it’s different. It’s not unwelcome.

Donna already arranged the previous night while Josh was showering for a new flight this morning. He hadn’t even thought about the need for a new one, which solidifies even more things for him, he just doesn’t voice it. They manage to square away out of the hotel quicker than anticipated, remaining in silence with heavy glances at one another. 

The consummation of a new, undefined relationship can definitely sour or sweeten things—Josh isn’t prepared to approach what this means for them quite yet. The comfortability that seems to have remained keeps his spirits from dipping low, though.

In the cab to the airport Josh looks over at her a couple times, her own eyes out the window. He blows out a breath, looking down at where their hands are close, but not touching. He doesn’t reach out.

They walk through the same glass doors as last night, looking a little worse for wear in their dirty attires and bed-head hair neither did too good a job of straightening out. Neither really seem to care though, an ease glowing around the edges of their shared atmosphere. The tension from yesterday, from their inability to get where they needed to be and what they wanted, has ebbed and run its course. Today is a new day, with new challenges, but hopefully it all works in their favor. 

Donna does the talking as soon as they get to the check-in counter, her face relaxed. Josh smiles at it, looking away after a second too long. 

“Right on schedule,” the clerk tells them. “The rain seemed to have finished its downpour just a few hours after your scheduled flight last night. Sorry we didn’t get you on a plane sooner.”

The Deputy Chief of Staff and his assistant sneak eye contact at that, the flirty little smiles tempting their lips telling them that if they had stuck around in the airport, last night wouldn’t have happened. Neither voice this and Donna collects their boarding passes before they head to security. 

It’s not until they’re sitting down outside their gate, waiting for their boarding group to be called, that Josh finally says something for the first time this morning. “You got us off the island,” he murmurs. In a bout of confidence, he brings his arm up and around the back of her seat, casual, only barely touching her from the move. Respectable, yet something. 

“It’s what you pay me for,” she teases. 

A smile touches the corners of his mouth. “I seem to pay you for a lot more than that.”

He gets a smack over the back of the head at that.

-

_(you know I’m stuck here)_

-

“When I get home I’m taking the longest hot bath of my life,” Donna says, head tilted back against her bus seat, eyes closed. She releases a small exhale.

Josh, beside her, huffs. “You inviting me over or something?”

She rolls her head to look at him. “Did I say that?”

They share a smile for what feels like the hundredth time since waking up in bed together this morning, the invisible string now connecting them feeling taut and hard. Now that they’re back in D.C., reality has roughened the edges of their earlier glow, bringing about the idea of how to pursue their new predicament further. Neither want to address it yet, however, allowing it to stay unspoken. At least for now. When they’re back at the White House, it’ll be a different story.

Josh is glancing back out the window now, eyes watching the gray scene of their home city whip by, before he bangs against the bus wall. “Excuse me,” he calls out. “Would you mind letting us off at the bridge?”

Donna’s eyes pop open as the bus driver hollers back, the bus moving off to the side of the road before coming to a halt. Josh ushers her up, grabbing her purse before even she can, and suddenly they’re back on their feet, climbing down the stairs onto the sidewalk. 

“Josh,” she urges as the doors screech closed behind them. “What are we doing? We’re almost home.”

Her boss head-nods to his left, slinging her purse straps onto his shoulder. She follows his gaze, the luminescent, imposing sight of the White House up ahead, the blue sky backlighting it. She looks back at Josh, at his teasing, challenging stare. “A little more exercise won’t hurt, yeah?” he nudges her arm with his elbow. “We’ve made it this far.”

She wants to argue, she does, but she can’t. This end to their journey, to their day-long excursion, feels right. She sighs but nods, turning with him to start their last stretch home. 

“Was I patient enough with you?” Donna asks as they lope, arms brushing.

“When are you not?”

She smiles, her face feeling pink, looking down at her shoes. They walk without saying anything for a bit, crossing over the bridge. As the presence of their workplace looms ever closer, Donna feels her heart begin to race. On instinct, she reaches down and grabs Josh’s hand. His eyes flit to their now-tangling fingers, before finding her face. 

“What are we gonna do?” she asks quietly. “What are we gonna say?”

He swallows, having to look away. “I don’t know.”

That's not the answer she wants, but it’s the answer she expected. She squeezes his hand without meaning to. Her mouth is dry. She wonders how far he’ll let them get before they’ll have to drop the hand holding.

“It’s gonna be hard,” she finishes quietly. Donna doesn’t know what she wants from him—assurance? Advice? A romantic gesture? All she knows is she doesn’t want to walk through the White House doors feeling like everything is different. Everything is good and wonderful—it should stay that way.

Josh simmers in her comment for a moment then says, “Then we’ll do what’s hard.” He looks at her, the ends of his tie hanging around his neck moving with the breeze. She wishes to use them to pull him down into a kiss, but knows better. They’re already testing fate by being linked how they are. 

“Together?” she asks, eyes warm and bright. All the affection, all the awe he’s ever felt for this woman, swarm his vision before settling deep in his chest. The scar etched near his sternum gives a bloody pulse.

He nods and they continue on, the building they’ve been so desperate to get back to finally feeling within reach. Just a minute later Josh slides his hand away from hers, tucking it into his pocket. Even as he does, she knows he isn’t letting go. 

And as the ease between them lengthens, stretched thin but strong as ever, she knows she won’t either. Rain or shine.


End file.
